


Uneasy Understanding

by Creed Cascade (creedcascade)



Category: Tour of Duty (1987)
Genre: Fatherhood, Illnesses, M/M, Redemption, Soldiers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-23
Updated: 2011-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-27 21:11:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/300084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creedcascade/pseuds/Creed%20Cascade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zeke is summoned by someone from Myron’s past he never would have expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uneasy Understanding

Myron slept face down on the desk, face resting on a pile of scattered papers. He hadn’t shaved in a few days and his light blue shirt was rumpled, the first few buttons undone. Zeke leaned against the door frame, simply watching him sleep. The large grey cat stretched out on the desk and wrapped around the typewriter moved in its sleep, hitting Myron in the face with its flicking tail. Myron huffed and scowled a bit, but he didn’t wake up. Zeke smiled and shook his head, watching Myron with warm affection.

Zeke sniffed at the coffee cup in his hand, finding even the smell of the dark liquid to be potent. The damn stuff nearly slithered out of the pot. But, it was exactly how Myron liked it. He had a made a point of putting it in Myron’s favourite red coffee mug with the chipped rim. Zeke had picked it up for him a cheesy tourist shop a state park during a vacation. They were talking about going back in the summer since Zeke had taken a liking to the place.

Zeke ambled towards the desk and set down the mug. The tomcat’s ragged ears twitched, tips long lost to frostbite. The tabby opened one eye to a slit and hissed at him. Zeke grinned and scratched its head. The thing was ornery and Myron named it Hemingway. He suspected that was why it got along so well with Myron.

Zeke rested a hand on the back of Myron’s neck, caressing up through his hair. Myron shifted under his touch and grumbled, papers moving on the desk top. Zeke liked to wake Myron up slowly, touching him lightly. His hand shifted to trace along Myron’s unshaved cheek.

“Evenin’, Myron…”

Myron lifted his head and gave a noncommittal grunt before opening his eyes. There was a bit of spit on the corner of his mouth that he wiped away with his shirt sleeve. “Wha time s’it?”

Zeke chuckled, his fingers moving back to work on Myron’s neck as the man finally managed to push upright in the chair. “Almost twenty-two hundred hours. I didn’t have the heart to wake you for dinner. You were snorin’ loud enough to take the roof off.”

Myron yawned, reaching for the cup of coffee, just holding it for a long moment and inhaling the steam. He blinked wearily down at the typewriter. “I might not have slept well last night.”

“Really? Hadn’t noticed,” Zeke answered, moving around to perch on the edge of the desk. The tabby gave another hiss before jumping down, moving to rest on top of Myron’s feet. “I figured it was best to get you up now so you can either come to bed or keep working on… whatever it is you’re working on.”

“It’ll keep until tomorrow morning.” Myron frowned at the typewriter. He took a sip from the mug before setting it back down. Raising both hands above his head he stretched, bones popping loud in the silence of the room. He gave a satisfied groan before slinking down further into the chair. “Where were you?”

“I wasn’t here.”

“That is not an answer.”

“It’s an answer, but not the one you want to hear.”

Myron sat up straight, irritated. “Tell me. Now.”

Zeke moved behind the chair and settled his hands on Myron’s shoulders. Squeezing the tight muscles, he tried to ease the tension. “You’re not gonna like the answer. I could tell ya in the morning after you, god forbid, get a decent night’s sleep for once.”

Myron’s response was a silent deadly glare.

Zeke sighed and leaned in to kiss the top of Myron’s head. “I went to the hospital to see your ol’ man…”

++++++

Some pretty little nurse had dropped off a note at work. Still dressed in her uniform, she was tired and haggard, but wouldn’t leave until she had personally delivered the note to Zeke. Turns out the author of said note had paid her off to deliver it after a double shift. Zeke couldn’t fault her for seeking out easy money when she probably had hungry mouths to feed at home. The note had been a summons written in a scrawl eerily similar to Myron’s own chicken scratchings.

 **Anderson,**

 **Kingsbrook Jewish Medical Center. Room 321.  
Come immediately after work. Come alone. It’s about Myron. Don’t tell him.**

 **Martin Goldman**

That note was shoved and crumpled in Zeke’s pocket as he lingered outside of room 321. Hospitals always made Zeke uneasy. The antiseptic smell reminded him too much of the orphanage. One institution was much like the other. Same sickly green paint on the wall and worn waxed tiles.

“Might as well come in. I can tell you’re out there, boy.”

Boy. Derogatory. Reminding Zeke of his place. Yeah, this asshole was definitely a Goldman, but lacking any of Myron’s charms.

Zeke held his head high and sauntered into the room which held only one occupant. He fought the urge to salute. Even withered and dying, Martin Goldman oozed authority, every inch the Major General. The tubes and machines hooked up to him couldn’t take that away from him. Tough son of a bitch should have been dead long ago, but he was holding out, probably simply to piss off his doctors. They sized each other up.

Martin’s eyes were still hard and assessing. “Sergeant.”

So they were going to hide behind rank even though neither of them wore a uniform. Zeke was fine with that. Out of sheer habit he fell into a casual parade rest.

“General.”

“You got my message,” Martin wheezed and tried to cover it with a cough.

“I’m here.”

“You are.”

“The question is, why am I here?”

“Myron’s been coming to see me.”

Myron had been visiting regularly. When all was said and done, Myron was his father’s son. The hard lessons about duty and responsibility had left their mark on the man Myron grew to be. And, as far as Zeke was concerned, that was a damn fine man. There was also a part of Myron who wanted his father’s acceptance. Myron told Zeke during the short visits they talked about the weather or the crappy hospital food. Mostly, Goldman Senior liked to complain.

“I know that.”

“Mmm, he’s never mentioned you.”

Zeke glanced out the window at the wonderful view of a tarred rooftop. If he had gone with his gut, he would have gone straight home and given Myron the note. He should have let Myron decide what he wanted, but he didn’t trust the general. Whatever fucked up relationship Myron had with his father, it was fragile and the old man didn’t have much time left.

“Why am I here?” Zeke demanded.

“I know.” Martin’s fingers curled into a weak fist. Zeke turned on his heels and was one stride out of the room when he heard Martin call out. “Wait… please.”

“Give me one reason.”

“My boy.” Martin coughed again, his frail body racked from the effort. The glare he directed at Zeke reminded him so much of Myron that he dared take a seat on the plastic chair next to the bed. “Don’t judge me.”

“I’m not casting the first stone.” Zeke was far from an ideal father since he couldn’t even manage to stick around for his daughter. But, as someone who cared about Myron, he sure as hell was going to judge Martin. Logic didn’t matter in affairs of the heart.

“I’m not an idiot, Sergeant. I spent my entire adult life in this man’s army…” Martin tapped his chest, his own dog tags jingling. “Just because I turn a blind eye doesn’t mean that I’m blind.”

Zeke settled his elbows onto his knees. He wasn’t going to admit a thing. It wasn’t his place and Myron would never forgive him. “You’re an asshole and a bad father.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

“So has Myron.”

“Probably by you…” When Martin coughed this time, he winced and wiped away the blood at the side of his mouth. “He’s different. Since you.”

“You accusing me of somethin’?”

“No. Myron’s always been… different. Smart. Too sensitive. He liked sissy books. It’s one of the reasons I was so hard on him. I thought I could change him and tried to make a real man out of him.” Martin laid his head back on the thin hospital pillow. “It didn’t work, obliviously. Since he met you, he’s been… happier.”

It was said with obvious regret. The fact that Zeke made his son happy was a painful admission.

“I’m not gonna talk to you about this. It’s not my right.”

“It might not be your right, but… Myron’s never trusted anyone else. Not since his mother…” Martin sighed heavily and turned his head towards Zeke, opening his eyes. “Next time Myron comes to visit, you can tag along like the shadow you are.”

“Why?”

“Because, I can’t give him… I…” Martin hesitated, stumbling over the emotional words. It was something else he shared in common with his son. “Because.”

Martin was silently asking him to intercede with Myron. To tell him that Martin knew and accepted on some level what Myron was. It was an attempt to make amends.

“He’ll be in one hell of a mood,” Zeke warned.

“He’s always in a mood.”

“It’s a family trait.”

The awkward silence lingered between them. Zeke decided for Myron’s sake he’d offer the olive branch. He stood up and nodded to Martin. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Anderson, one more thing…”

“Yeah?”

“It’s pretty obvious, but I don’t have much time left. Myron… he’s… he’s like his mother in too many ways. I want… I’d like… someone to… watch out for him. You’re…” Martin struggled through the plea. “…convenient. He could use a friend after I’m gone. Even if it’s…” He waved abstractly at Zeke. “You.”

People made mistakes. They died. Some changed, or at least learned remorse. Some got the chance at a small piece of happiness and redemption before they kicked the bucket.

“I’ll take care of him.”

“You were a good sergeant for my boy.” Martin admitted this barely above a whisper. It was a compliment between military men and a sign of respect, despite their differences. “You kept him alive and I expect you’ll keep doing the same.”

Zeke nodded in acknowledgement. He was ready to leave, but was genuinely surprised when Martin held out a shaky hand. Zeke shuffled closer and took the frail hand in his own. For taking this risk, the man deserved to keep his dignity.

Shaking Martin’s hand with a firm grip, he kept eye contact. Letting go of Martin’s hand, Zeke snapped off a sharp salute, offering the sign of respect in return. “Sir.”

Martin huffed and didn’t respond with words, but they had come to an uneasy understanding.

++++++

When Myron bolted out of his chair, Zeke pulled him into his arms even though Myron resisted. If he let Myron run, then there was no telling what would happen. Zeke wasn’t particularly good with words, but he had to try. He locked his arms around Myron, holding him impossibly close.

“He knows,” Zeke confessed. “I can’t say he doesn’t care, or understands, but he still loves ya.”

“Zeke, let me go…” Myron demanded and struggled.

“No, I’ll never let ya go, ever again.” He hissed into Myron’s ear, trusting Myron would understand and not fall back into his insecurities. “I love you. I’ll be with you through this ‘n’ anything else.”

Myron stiffened, but he stopped resisting the offer of comfort. He laid his head on Zeke’s shoulder, still shocked about the revelation. “He…”

“He’s dying ‘n’ that can bring a man perspective in the end.” Zeke nuzzled behind Myron’s ear. He wanted to keep talking, hoping to get Myron to believe. “I know how he feels. After I left you, I felt like I was dying. Out in the bush, when it was a close call for me, it was you I was thinkin’ of… only you. He wants me to go with you next time to visit.”

“Really?” The disbelief was obvious in his tone.

“He said as much.” Zeke pulled away only so he could frame Myron’s face with his hands and kiss him. “Even ol’ dogs can learn new tricks. Do you want me to go?”

Myron kissed Zeke almost shyly and huffed with irritation at the end. “There’s no place I’d go without you…”

It wasn’t about forgetting, but maybe… just maybe, forgiveness.

END.


End file.
